Mercy chews her lip and fidgets under your glare. She begins to slowly run her hands down her imprisoned legs, and where she touches the wood blackens and flakes away.

“You're like no dryad I've seen, nor heard of,” you state emphatically. Still she refuses to meet your eyes or respond until she finally frees herself and stands on the earth once more. What you first took to be an orgasmic blush appears to be something more, as her entire body is tinged red. Even the roots of her otherwise snowy hair have changed, tinted black.

She settles herself on the earth and leans back, staring at the sky as the clouds burst with sunrise.

“Succubus.” she finally whispers. “I'm a demon's bastard.”

That draws you up short.

“Huh.”

“Hence...” she gestures vaguely, as if to indicate her skin, horns, and previous mid-battle masturbation in one gesture.

“Huh.”

“Not what you expected?” she asks with a sardonic smile.

“Not sure what I expected, to be honest. So the healing..?”

She nods at your unfinished question. “I needed to charge myself quickly.” An awkward silence descends on you, until she blurts out “Thank you, by the way. For saving me.”

“Don't mention it.”

“No, I'm... I'm thankful. Those things already killed my grove. S'why I'm out here. I wouldn't have got free in time and you risked a lot. So... thanks.”

You're not really sure what to say. Mercy being open and appreciative is new. Luckily, your rumination on how to respond is cut short when her stomach gives a loud gurgle.

“Are you alright? I didn't think dryads ate.”

Her response is just a little too quick. “Yeah I'm fine. Just need to get to town.”

You don't buy it, but then, she did mention a town. “Brakenford?”

She nods. “I have a few friends there who can help me.”

“Wonderful,” you stand and stretch. “That was my original destination before I was grounded. It would be poor payback if I struck out on my own when we're headed the same way.”

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Mercy seems to be on the verge of refusing you, standing herself. But then her stomach gurgles again, and she staggers. You position yourself under her hand and brace, allowing her to regain her balance without falling, but make no mention of it, looking up at her as if nothing happened.

“Shall we?”

After a few seconds, she nods slowly. “Brakenford is around two hours from here. We might even make it in time for - “ her stomach grumbles again and she gives a wry smile, “Breakfast.”

Perhaps unsurprisingly, neither of you attempt much in the way of small talk while you walk. Instead, you use your newly regained freedom of movement to leap from branch to branch above, sometimes leaping straight into the open air above and circling lazily as you fall. Your acrobatics do more than just reaffirm your health, however. You are also keeping a keen ear out for the telltale buzz you have come to associate with imminent attack. You aren't sure exactly what she is doing, but the slightly unnatural shifting that the trees are doing convinces you that mercy is doing something too.

You don't comment that her own pace is slow, at best, compounded by her frequent stumbles. More than once you're forced to the earth to help her regain her feet.

Finally, after around two hours at half speed, you have had enough.

“Mercy!” you call, from a tree ahead of her. “There's a clearing ahead. Lets stop and rest for a while.”

She barely responds, and you look at her face for the first time in a while. Her eyes are nearly shut, the whites showing more than the green of her iris. As soon as she crosses into the clearing, she collapses onto her hands and knees. You hop down to the earth next to her. Her skin is pallid, but when you reach out to steady her, she burns.

You gently help her settle back into a seated position.

“You going to be honest about the problem now?”

Her eyelids flutter and she struggles to focus on you. After a few seconds, her eyes slip closed again and you strain to hear her whisper.

“Need power. Used too much.”

“Didn't you get enough during the fight?”

Her head lolls in what you think might be a shake. “That was... charging. Now all empty.”

“Is there anything I can do?”. As much as you don't want to take advantage of her, you think you can guess how a half succubus recharges her power, and you feel a spark of passion begin to thrum in your veins.

She slumps against you bonelessly except her arm. Her arm flails until it rests against your *CENSORED* . She breathes against your neck, her skin uncomfortably warm even for you. She doesn't answer, but as soon *CENSORED* . *CENSORED*

*CENSORED* You watch as the darkness in her hair seems to flow forwards till her hair is black silk. Her skin is slowly turning red and her horns seem to twist on themselves, changing into curled ungulate horns that still frame her hairline.

*CENSORED* . She finally opens her eyes enough to stare at you, revealing blood red pupils slashed across pitch black eyes.

*CENSORED*

*CENSORED*

*CENSORED*

*CENSORED*

Somehow, you feel yourself getting tired *CENSORED*

*CENSORED*

Mercy seems to be getting more coherent *CENSORED* , and the burning red of her skin slowly cools before your eyes, returning to the pale green it was before. Her eyes flicker between demonic cat and normal as she blinks and her horns smooth out, loosing their wickedness.

If you were capable of higher thought right now, it would be both disturbing and beautiful.

As you currently are, it instead makes no difference and you continue to *CENSORED* .

*CENSORED*

*CENSORED*

“No, Red, you need to stop. You wont survive it if you-”

*CENSORED* your body goes cold, and exhaustion overtakes you.

Sleep.